The Sunday herald., 1887-01-23
"Tim.r he answered briefly.

"Ain't got no other" he said. "Tm lust
Tim"
"Well. what is your father called I" she
suggested a little impatiently.
"Ain't got no father; amt got nobody
but Smut"
"IIave you lost your parents long I" she
said, with no touch of pity In The cleat. low
voice.
Didn't lose 'em; never had none" he re-
turned indiferently.
"S'pect | Crowd" murmured the girl,
suppressing smile. "But you are such
little boy to he alone in the world. Where
do you livef'
Streets, most times" he said. "Summer
months we sleep out o. doors, Smut and me.
But winter time we get penny lodgin'
when we're in luck.'
"And when you ars not In lack Z"
"Then we sleep on Blackfriars Bridge or
the 'bankment. The bridge Ia warmest.
There you ran get uoriier odt o. the wind II
you go early, before the best seats are took.
On the 'bankment 'tis Rt to freeze yer
marrer."
"Would you feel happier In the work
house 7" she asked oarelessly, standing
back once more to catch the general effect.
"Should be better oG most like" he re-
turned quietly. "But there amt no place
fur dogs in the 'ouse, and Smut aud me
amt goin' to part"
"Do you ever 60 TO church 2" questioned
the girl, after a pause, fearing that he
would grow restless II he did not talk.
"Constant," said the boy uublushingly:
"and we 80 to Sunday school reg'lar, Smut
aud me-"
"Smut, too :" she asked absently.
"Leastways, Smut waits for the uulside,"
he said hastily. ooh, we're right down
pious chaps, we are"
"There, l have done for this morning,
she said presently, rising from her stool
"Here IL your money. / would give you
more II | could afford 1t; but I am poor, like
you. eau you come at the same time to-
morrow ~
"Right you are," he said, pocketing the
pence slowly.
"Then 1 shall expect you at eleven.
Good -bye-good bye, Smut"
II.
Edith Munro had vivid recollection of
Tim as she had beheld him in the Strand
three weeks ago. The scene had impressed
Pickering lamp light, the slender figure of
the boy as he had stood with his face pressed
close against the glass; looking with longing
eyes into the brightly lighted shop. But
the picture had appealed to her imagination
without in any way touching her heart; she
had regarded the pathetic little figure az a
possible 'subject," but no tenderer feeling
had moved her.
Tim posed as model in the Suffolk street
studio for some hours every day, aud the
painting was beginning to look lifs.like un-
der the artists skillful fingers. Encour-
aged by her careless questioning, the boy
poured forth the whole of his pitlul history
unconscious that his words fell on inatten-
tive ears. Nothing was hidden from her
His poverty, his loneliness, his passionate
love for Smut, all were laid bare before the
girl, whose interest in him was purely
selfish, whose questions were prompted
solely by the desire to keep him quiet. Tim,
however, was happily ignorant of her in
difference, and her apparent sweetness
awakened in him devotion which filed his
hungry little soul with enthusiasm. He
thought of her as one far removed FROM the
rest of the world-as being free from every
taint of evil. sense Of his own unworthi.
ness took possession of him, aud weighed
heavily on his loving heart. He had told
her that he was a good boy-that he went
regularly to church aud Suuday-school, and
the remembrance of this had become un bear.
able to him.
As he walked slowly down Suffolk street
one morning nightly resolve formed itself
in his mind. He ran up stairs hurriedly,
| fearing that his courage might forsake hin
il he gave himself time for thought, and his
first feeling on finding the room unoccupied
was one of disappointment. Smut ourled
himself up in his usual corner near the win
dow, and Tim stationed himself before the
easel, looking bitterly at the ragged figure
which met his gaze.
"You good boy !" he said, regarding the
painting contemptuously. "You look like
it, don't youl Your little game's bout
done, ole man; you'll see the last of her."
| He took his place quietly when she camt
in, his heart beating heavily under his
ragged jacket as he gazed out silently upon
the patch of gray sky. The unusual silenc.
struck the girl, and she regarded him will
| something akin to interest as he stood there
with the light falling upon his rigid little
face.
"What makes yOu so quiet to-day, Tim
Has Smut been bad dog?"
"No, it amt Smut" returned the boy
drearily. "Its me that's been bad"
"Why, what have you done ?" she asked
her eyes growing warm with amusement.
Twas the very first day come here, y
he said, in the same dreary tones, never re
moving his gaze from the window. 81 told
you a orammer; 1 said as how l went t
church and to Sunday school"
"And it was not true ?' she questioned
lightly.
"Never been inside church-'cept tt
warm myself" he answered dogg.dly
"Nevsr been to Sunday. school in all my
born days.
"What made you tell such story ?" sh,
| inn uiru1 tho lu1ipr aida nf ho
alone striking her.
"Wanted you TO think | was good
chap" he returned in low, shamed voice
"You said you'd give me thripsncea day i
| was good boy"
"And why do you tell me about It now =
she asked curiOusly. SIS il because you
know that cannot finish the picture with
out you 7"
"No, it ain't!'' he answered roughly
looking round from the window for the iirs
time.
"Why, then2"
"Don't know 'xackly, but it amt that,
he said more quietly.
"Don't You know that II is very naught,
TO tell stories ?" she questioned, with an un
comfortable sense that some rebuke was RI
quired of her.
"S'pose 80" he answered hnmbly.
4 Wcii, We ~ nav uO tuOTe aUOut
said vaguely. "But don't do it again"
When Tim entered the studio next day h
found Miss Munro sitting before her easel
looking pale and languid.
81 shall not want you this morning." sh'
said wearily. 81 am not we'll enough 4
paint to, day"
"You look awful white,' said the bo.
gently.
you can come tomorrow as usual" sh
continued in the same subdued tone. -
dar. say shall he tit for work Tomorrow.
Hope you'll feel better soon," he said a,
he awkwardly moved away.
He walked slowly down the street an
along the Embankment, his dog trottinl
close at his heels. A thin, gray mist hun
over the river, yelling the opposite shor
from view. As he looked thoughtfull.
across the stretch of water his eyes abseptl,
followed boat as 1t silently became visibl
out of the mist and as silently melted ava.
into IL once more. Smut jumped up upo
the wall presently, and sat there, lookin
down gravely into tho gloomy water. Tin
patted the dog with an absent air, an,
when he spoke his voice was low aud sad.
"She said as how she was poor that frs
night" he whispered brokenly, "and Nv
never given it a thought She lays on
thripence day on that pictur' ZOOS She